


Broken Hearts and Misunderstandings

by Bananase221



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 (TV) RPF, The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Clarke Griffin & John Murphy Friendship, Implied / Referenced Drunkenness, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Insecure John Murphy, Insecurity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Murphamy - Freeform, Sad John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 13:41:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananase221/pseuds/Bananase221
Summary: Modern Murphamy AU. John Murphy decides to sneak into his boyfriend's house to make him breakfast, but soon discovers his boyfriend isn't home alone — Clarke spent the night. John misunderstands and it's up to Bellamy to get the already broken boy to trust him again.





	Broken Hearts and Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second angst fic and I'm trying my best to get better at writing it so that any of you angst lovers out there, like myself, will be able to hopefully enjoy it that little bit more! I really hope you like this, it's been a long time coming with writer's block and school and all. I'd love to hear any comments you have!

Broken Hearts and Misunderstandings – Murphamy AU

            Murphy smiles softly as he, quiet as a mouse, sneaks into Bellamy’s apartment with his own key, given to him by Bellamy three months ago - the day of their first anniversary. He’s careful not to shift the bag in his arms for fear that he’ll wake Bellamy before he’s ready. He smiles as he quietly takes out the Tupperware container with pancake batter and starts heating up a frying pan he found in Bellamy’s cupboards. He hums along to every random song he thinks of, smiling and feeling freer than usual inside Bellamy’s apartment. This is the first time he’s used the key and knows that has something to do with it. It makes their relationship seem even more solidified.

            Murphy’s thoughts flash back to before Bellamy and his friends. He remembers his mother’s hand print stinging his cheek after one to many drinks, accusations of him causing his father’s death, and of the wounds nearly every relationship made on him. His mother used to beat him, because she blamed his father getting ill on him. Which was true. Murphy’s illness when he was five had been contagious and his father had managed to catch a deadly strain of it. He died six weeks after Murphy recovered. His mother turned to alcohol, and relationships had scared him. He never wanted to be guilty of loving someone so much that it would kill him if they died. Then his mother died in a pool of her own vomit and Murphy found a morbid sense of peace.

This fear carried into friendships. He was afraid of caring for people after Mbege. Murphy is now able to smile at the thought of him because of Bellamy and the friends he’s made because of him. He met Mbege on his first day of middle school and they hit it off, both pleased to realize that they shared the name “John”. From that day on they each went by their last names. In their senior year of high school Mbege had died in a car accident and the only person Murphy loved and in turn loved him was gone. He was in a dark place after that and had pushed everyone away. He held a number of short dispassionate relationships and dry friendships for simply the reason that he didn’t want to be alone.

Murphy sighs as he remembers finishing college, moving into his apartment and getting his job, happy to finally be far away from all the people who could hurt him. He was able to start new here, and with that he became a mystery to others and finally found himself. He found comfort in being alone and stayed that way. Until Clarke had pried her way into his life. She was stubborn and unrelenting, and when she introduced him to Bellamy shortly after their tentative friendship began, they had taken to each other like fire and ice. Clarke and Bellamy had been together for six months at this point and they broke things off three months after they met Murphy, Bellamy crying himself to sleep on his shoulder. Murphy and Bellamy were better after that.

One morning after an argument between them, Bellamy had bought Murphy breakfast and talked things over. Clarke had been behind Bellamy’s gesture, not wanting her boys to hate each other, but not even she could have guessed that they harbored feelings for each other. Murphy had been especially careful in hiding this, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret if Clarke knew. Bellamy’s feelings had always been a mystery to him. Murphy had opened up to Bellamy, and Bellamy had kissed him. They were together ever since. No one was more shocked, and excited, than Clarke when the next time she saw them they were a couple.

Murphy grins as the sweet scent of pancakes mixes with the salty scent of bacon as it floated through the air. He’s nearly finished with his last pancake when a person enters the kitchen. Murphy turns, grinning and embarrassed about being caught, and his heart plummets into the pit of his stomach when his eyes meet Clarke’s. He takes her in, standing before him in shock, the towel wrapped around her wet body and her hair mussed in a much too familiar fashion to himself when he’s spent the night with Bellamy.

He gasps, backing himself against the oven, shaking his head repeatedly. “No no no no…” His hands go to his hair, shaking, pale fingers clenching into the brown tendrils. “No.” He whispers, voice breaking.

Clarke’s eyes go wide in horror. “No! Murphy, I promise you, this isn’t what it looks like! I was just—" Her voice shakes as her explanation is cut off by Bellamy’s voice.

“Clarke? What’s taking you so… long?” His voice trails off as he sees Murphy standing before him looking ragged and broken, pale and shaking. “Murphy?”

Bellamy’s heart clenches and he feels nauseous as Murphy begins grabbing things haphazardly and throwing them into a bag, shaking his head emphatically. “Murphy! No! This isn’t what it looks like! Clarke was just—"

“Spending the night?” Murphy bites out, tears clawing their way out, burning his now red-rimmed eyes, blazing trails down his cheeks. He throws the dirty pancake mix bowl into the bag before realizing he can’t take this any more, seeing them standing there staring at him. He grabs the bag and pushes past Bellamy, trying to leave.

“No! Well, yes! But not like that! Murphy please. Believe me! I need you to listen to me!” Bellamy’s voice rises in panic and Clarke looks sick, but Murphy doesn’t care because he can see the guilt in their eyes. Bellamy grabs his arm.

“Let go of me.” Murphy mutters, trying to pull himself out of Bellamy’s grip.

“Murphy, please. I promise it’s not what it looks like!” Bellamy’s eyes are wild, and his unruly curls look more out of place than usual, his knuckles white where they’re gripping the teary Murphy’s worn-out t-shirt.

“No. I don’t believe you. After everything we’ve been through… I- I _trusted_ you. I just don’t know why…” Murphy’s eyes shutter down, shoulders closing in on themselves and Bellamy feels panic course through his body, knowing he’s losing Murphy over something that never happened.

“It’s not! She was just-“

“A mistake, right? Is that what you’ll say next time? And the time after that?” Murphy’s voice is bitter, and he finally wrenches himself out of Bellamy’s grip. Bellamy throws his arms around Murphy, trying to hug him to his body, but Murphy fights it, slapping at his arms “Don’t touch me!”.

            “No! That’s not—"

            “I can’t believe I actually thought someone like you could love someone like me.” Murphy’s words slice through Bellamy, shocking him enough to loosen his grip. And just like that, Murphy is gone, door slamming behind him, leaving the last pancake burning on the stove. Bellamy feels like he’s going to be sick.

            Murphy runs until his legs give out beneath him, then he picks himself back up and runs farther. He throws himself onto a park bench somewhere and tries to stop the tears that have forced themselves out from behind his mask, pulling his knees up to his chest and burrowing his face in them. He clenches his teeth and digs his fingers into his palms, trying to stop the pain and the panic coursing through his body. “No… no…no…” He murmurs through body-wracking sobs. His hands beat themselves against his legs and the sides of his head, “Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. How could anyone ever love you? Your own mother didn’t.” His mind taunts him, screams at him. He chokes back the sobs and sits there until he can no longer feel anything, numbness taking over his body as he tries to regain control. “Everyone leaves you in the end.” His breath puffs out at him in the silence and he only realizes now how cold it is. He doesn’t want to go back to his painfully empty apartment, filled with reminders and pictures and memories of Bellamy. It would hurt too much. Murphy sighs before deciding the bench will do and curls his legs up into his chest, willing sleep to take him before park patrons being to arrive.

 

            Bellamy’s been looking for Murphy for what feels like the entire day. He grips his hair tight in his free hand as he drives as though meaning to tear it out in frustration. He should know where Murphy would go. He loves him. Why can’t he find him? He knows the rational explanation is that he can’t find him because he doesn’t want to be found, but he still feels like he’s failing him. That he’s missed something along the way that would have led him to John sooner so he can clear up the misunderstanding. He knows the longer John ruminates, the harder it will be to prove to him that nothing happened, so he pleads with whatever god is willing to listen that he is able to find the broken boy before he tries to disappear.

            He stares out at the park where they had their first date for the sixth time since Murphy ran out, begging for a flash of anything that would remind him of John and give him any sort of indication that he may have found him. It had been two hours since Murphy ran and there hadn’t even been any false finds. It was like anything “Murphy” had disappeared of the face of the earth, even though Bellamy is usually able to find Murphy in everything. “Where are you, John?” Bellamy whispers to himself as he sees the first joggers beginning their runs over the winding cement paths. He stares at one particular bench facing into the park that they seem to avoid and immediately pulls over to the side of the road to investigate, hope welling up in the pit of his stomach.

            He approaches the bench and begins to make out a black-clad shape through the slats of the dewy wood. He feels a squeeze in his heart when he slowly rounds the bench to find the blonde man he loves shivering on the bench with tear tracks staining his porcelain cheeks, legs tucked up into himself. “Murphy?” Bellamy’s voice is gentle as he stares at the younger man, unsure if he’s still allowed to use his first name.

            John’s eyes blink open at the sound of Bellamy’s voice. “John, pleas—”

            “Don’t call me that.” Murphy cringes at the way his voice comes out scratchy and hollow.

            “ _Murphy_. Please. I need to explain! It’s not what it—”

            “I can’t hear this, Bellamy. It’s not worth it. If you really want her, go fuck her. See if I care. I’ll just go and let you get on with your life.” John begins unwinding his stiff, cold body from the bench, now forced to think of where he’d go next.

            “Murphy!” Bellamy tries reaching out to him, but Murphy automatically flinches away, feeling a small stab of guilt when Bellamy’s face falls and his hopeful expression turns hurt. Damn those puppy dog eyes. Murphy decides that he really hates those eyes.

            “Don’t touch me.” Murphy’s voice is gruff, and he can tell Bellamy knows it’s because he’s trying not to cry. “Go away.”

            “I’m not going anywhere until you let me explain.” Bellamy’s hand is slow as he reaches out to the skittish boy, placing his hand down gently on the bench next to him, rubbing his warm pinky against John’s freezing hand. John doesn’t flinch away this time. He doesn’t move. He just stares at Bellamy.

            “Why?”

            “Why what?”

            “Why did you do it?” Murphy’s voice cracks and Bellamy takes in a shuddering breath at the sound, heart clenching, horrified that he’d managed to break such a strong man.

            “I didn’t! Murphy, I swear I didn’t do it. I didn’t sleep with Clarke.”

            “Then why was she naked and getting out of the shower while you waited for her back in your bedroom?” Murphy feels his body shaking and stops trying to quell it, letting the hurt roar through his body. He deserves it, he thinks, for actually believing that someone like Bellamy would love someone like him.

            “She spent the night because she was drunk. I was afraid she’d get alcohol poisoning or something alone in her apartment. She slept on the couch.”

            “Why couldn’t anyone but you pick her up?” Murphy shakes his head, pulling himself farther away from the raven-haired man before him.

            “She was at the bar down the street, you know, the one with that stupid cardboard cut-out lasso in front of it. I promise you, if she had been closer to anyone else, I would have called someone else to get her.” Bellamy reaches out for Murphy, but he wraps his arms tightly around himself.

            “Why are you always her first call?” Murphy’s voice is barely a whisper and he sees Bellamy hesitate a second, brows furrowing. “Why is it always you who has to clean up her messes?”

            “ _Messes_? Murphy—” Bellamy’s tone is frustrated and Murphy jerks father away, flinching at the sound. “Wait. No… I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. But she’s my friend, Murph. My best friend. And she has been for years.”

            “Yeah. You also used to fuck her, too.” Murphy knows he’s not playing fair, but Bellamy’s not making sense to him and he wants him to know how hurt he feels.

            “It was nothing! It was a long time ago!” Bellamy’s hand drags through his hair in a stiff movement and Murphy can tell he’s about to snap. Good. Maybe then he’ll back off and leave him alone. He knew nobody could love this broken side of him. Especially not someone like Bellamy. Murphy takes a heavy step forward, a snarl on his lips.

            “It wasn’t nothing when you told her you loved her. It wasn’t nothing when you cried on my shoulder after she broke up with you when all I wanted was to be with you. So excuse me for not believing you.” Murphy yells, his hands clenched into shaking, white-knuckled fists at his sides, a dry smirk plastered onto his face. He tries to fight it, but he knows his eyes are rimmed red.

            “Murphy! Please! Just listen to me!” Bellamy’s eyes are wild and his voice is going shrill as he take a step forward, trying to lessen the distance Murphy is creating between them. Murphy takes two steps back.

            “You would have been my first call.” Murphy looks away, staring at the patch of green trying to break through the spring-thawed ground.

            “For what?” Murphy notices Bellamy’s eyebrows seem to be permanently furrowed and he looks him in the eyes once again.

            “Lexa should’ve been hers.” Murphy’s jaw clenches and he sees Bellamy’s face soften. The sight makes his sick right now, so he looks away again.

            “Murphy. She loves Lexa. And I love you. She was at the bar because of a fight with Lexa.” Murphy watches Bellamy slide half a step closer and allows it, barely, as he stares down hid boyfriend’s worn-out sneakers. His feet are probably cold. But he still can’t let him in that easily.

            “You love her too.” His stomach clenches uncomfortably. What does he think he’s doing? Why isn’t Bellamy walking away already? He should be. Everyone else did. Even his own mother. He can’t take it, so he digs his nails into his palms. He knows Bellamy should be fighting for the Princess instead of him She’s the perfect one after all.

            “As a sister. Nothing more.” Bellamy’s feet slide another half-foot closer and Murphy’s body tenses for a second before forcing himself to relax limb by limb like his therapist used to tell him to. Of course, he hasn’t been to her in years. He wonders if she’s even still alive.

            “But you used to.” He accuses, avoiding the brown eyes attempting to penetrate his thoughts.

            “But not anymore. I love _you_ and _only you_.” Bellamy takes a full step this time, slowly, as if trying not to spook an injured wolf, because that’s what John is really. At least, it’s what he feels like as Bellamy mentally backs him into a corner. Murphy shakes his head and takes a step back, scolding himself for letting Bellamy get close enough for him to see the glittering of his eyes and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

            “How can I trust you?” Murphy feels himself shattering inside, not knowing what to do. Why does he let people in? They only end up hurting him. If they don’t leave, they lie. They hurt. And they take.

            “I don’t know. But I will keep telling you I love you and that Clarke doesn’t mean anything to me romantically as long as it takes for you to believe me. And to believe that I would never cheat on you. Because I love you. And I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Murphy doesn’t notice Bellamy taking three slow steps until he’s right in front of him, Bellamy staring deep into his blue eyes with a soft intensity. And truth. Murphy looks at Bellamy’s eyebrows instead. He didn’t want Bellamy to see him fall apart.

            “Bellamy…” Murphy cringes as his voice breaks and leans away. Bellamy leans forward, his hand reaching out and lightly brushing Murphy’s. Murphy flinches away again.

            “Murphy. Stop trying to push me away.” Bellamy whispers near his ear, giving him his space and not touching him. Murphy feels a small burst of warmth in his chest that Bellamy was able to read what he needed.

            “I’m no good Bellamy. It’s only a matter of time before you leave me. And it might as well be for the Perfect Princess, right?” Murphy no longer cares that his voice shakes, just wants Bellamy to see that he’s too good for him and then leave.

            “Clarke’s not perfect Murphy. Neither am I. And I know you aren’t, but y _ou are_ perfect for me. And that’s all that matters. I don’t need a perfect person. Or an easy relationship. I just need you.” Murphy looks up when he hears Bellamy’s voice waver and sees the older man’s eyes rimmed with red and glossy with tears. Murphy watches his hands shake by his sides as though he’s fighting them from pulling Murphy into him. Murphy takes half a step closer.

            “I can’t take being hurt by you Bell. And there’s no way you’ll stay when you realize you’re too good for me. There’s no way someone like you could love someone as screwed up as I am, not when you have so many of your own problems to deal with. I’m just going to mess up the life you’ve created. You should just get with someone who’ll be able to help you instead of bring you down.” Murphy holds his breath, waiting through the silence for Bellamy’s answer, body shaking. When he gets none, Murphy looks up, only to see Bellamy’s soft eyes staring tearfully and lovingly down at him. And that’s all he’s able to take before he lets out a sob. Then another. And soon his body is wracked with them, body shaking, as he clutches his arms around himself, fighting to stop the sounds forcing their way out. Bellamy’s arms are around him in a second.

            “There’s no one out there better for me than you. I love you, Murphy, and if I had to give up everything if it meant I got to fall in love with you all over again, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’m not going to leave. I’m never going to leave. And I’m never going to let you leave. You’re all I need… John.” Murphy hears his name and he lets out another sob. He feels Bellamy smile gently and hug him tighter when he’s not reprimanded for using his name. Murphy wraps his arms around Bellamy’s long torso and squeezes him back just as tightly, still shaking as Bellamy whispers out a continuous stream of “I love you’s” into his hair and against any part of skin he can reach, leaving light, feathery kisses in his wake. “I never want to lose you, John. Losing you would destroy me. And losing you because of something I did would break me. I would never take that chance if it meant I might lose you. You’re important to me. Losing each other would destroy both of us, but John, you are not your mother. You will never be like her.”

            Murphy smiles softly and pulls away only slightly to look up into Bellamy’s eyes and he can’t believe the love he feels for the man before him. He feels the hurt and bad thoughts dissipating, at least for now, and he feels assured that Bellamy will never let his thoughts win. He watches the beautiful man stare down at him with love in his eyes, and feel his own face soften ever so slightly with emotion. He reaches up a rough, gentle hand and cups Bellamy’s cheek in it, feeling the hot skin against the palm of his hand as he leans into his touch, desperate for any contact he can get so he knows he’s forgiven. Murphy can read his body and his eyes like a novel. Can see the way his eyes beg for Murphy to believe him. To accept his love. And to give him his trust once again. And Murphy can’t say no. He leans up slowly and presses his soft red lips against Bellamy’s pink ones in a quiet, passionate kiss and he feels Bellamy immediately relax, tension leaving his body. He knows Bellamy feels his acceptance and he smiles softly once again. “I love you too, Bellamy Blake. Always.”

            Bellamy’s arms are once again around him and Murphy allows himself to be cradled in the older man’s arms. “I love you, Bell.” He kisses Bellamy’s shoulder.

            “I love you too, John.” Bellamy kisses the side of his head. “Let’s get you home.”

            Bellamy leads Murphy back to his car and they begin the drive back to Bellamy’s apartment, hand in hand, knowing they still need to talk some more, but knowing that things are going to turn out just fine. Maybe even perfect.

            (And, one month later, when Bellamy gets down on one knee and proposes to him with tears in his eyes and the perfect black metal ring, Murphy definitely doesn’t cry when he says yes.)

 


End file.
